


Family of Hearts

by edgy_fluffball



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Party, Birthday Present, F/M, M/M, Protective Parents, Superhero Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgy_fluffball/pseuds/edgy_fluffball
Summary: Birthday story for a very special person.With the Avengers out fighting, the birthday party preparations are left to one person alone.





	Family of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AwkwardAlien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardAlien/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Tiger! :)

The TV was loud enough to be heard throughout the whole apartment. The newscaster’s voice was shrill and panicked, short sentences followed each other, all too similar to a rapid fire gun. Her information about the newly arisen threat on the banks of the Hudson River echoed through the empty rooms, clearly audible in the kitchen where she was preparing the meal for later. She had finished the goulash, it steamed on the stove behind her, a salads waited in the fridge and she was stirring together a vanilla custard.

Just as she got ready to transfer it into another bowl, the newscaster said, ‘It looks like Black Widow is down. I repeat, Black Widow is down.’

The ceramic bowl slipped from her fingers and shattered on the stone kitchen ground. Shards broke the skins of the soles of her feet but she did not feel the pain. She hurried over to where the TV still showed the Avengers trying to contain the creatures dropping from a portal just beyond Broadway. She could make out the flash that was Iron Man, tumbling through the dusty air; the Hulk clung to something vaguely resembling a surfboard, trying to bring it to the ground. And there, moving constantly, never stopping, Cap and the Soldier, flipping each other into the air to take out the next enemy. Falcon swooped in from time to time to take care of something behind their backs.

She tried to localise Hawkeye in the midst of the battle, she could see his arrows flying and hitting their mark, but he seemed to move too quickly to be spotted. The direction the arrows came from changed with every second that went by. She noticed, however, the way he circled around Black Widow’s body, motionless on the ground until someone could get to her.

It was a Wednesday, after all, which meant that precisely these Avengers were on call, every New Yorker knew their schedule by this time. It was hard not to notice the regularity evolving around the pattern that saw certain Avengers appear on site on certain days.

The phenomenon superheroes had turned into was supported by the tight news coverage their interceptions received. Whenever they appeared in the streets, news cameras and journalists followed them and their movements as closely as possible. She knew that Cap and Black Widow hated it, they used every press conference to remind the public of the danger they faced, if they defied the Safety Protocol issued by the United Nations.

‘Oh, what a relief, Black Widow is back on her feet,’ the newscaster seemed relieved to see the woman stand again, ‘and she takes down the next creature!’

She exhaled carefully. When the journalists were back to the sports-like commentary, it was almost always save to say that no immediate harm to the Avengers was to be expected. Turning back to the kitchen, she noticed the red stains her feet had left on the previously shiny floor.

‘Shit!’ She cursed as she limped down the hall to fetch a bucket and a rag, ‘of course I bleed all over the flat. Of course it happens _now_.’

She wiped up what red footprints she had left in the hallway, living room and kitchen before hoisting herself onto the counter to bandage her feet using the first aid set they kept under the sink, usually for her father. His liability to injuries and accidents were more than infamous to their acquaintances and friends. In fact, she had never seen her father without band aids on various cuts and bruises in his face and on his arms or legs. They seemed to be a part of him.

The upside to it was the presence of bandages in almost every room of the apartment. Her mother had installed them there as soon as they had moved in, ‘Just to be sure.’

Every step she took, hurt. The cuts stung beneath the bandages but she had a cake to finish, food to get ready and a table to set. The cake was the easiest to manage, her custard was quick to stir together, even with the remnants of her first batch having ended up on the floor. She could pour it between her chocolate sponges without a problem. Her mother had hidden the decorations, like every year, to keep her father from eating them before the time. Like every year, she had found them in time. This year, her mother had bought fondant and edible paper Avengers cake decorations.

In the background, the newscaster congratulated the real Avengers on seemingly having won the battle and taken care of whatever enemy they had been facing. The news teams would be on site long after the Avengers had left, recalling what had been going on, assuming the motivations and background of whatever creatures they had been fighting. Their theories got wilder with every time it happened. No one wanted to hear that some people were just both evil and stupid enough to attack in broad daylight when the Avengers were close by to stop them.

She put the finished cake into the fridge and got the first salad bowls out. Her parents would be back soon enough and they would enjoy something to eat on the table. She set the table for the fifteen people who might turn up. She could never know how many were to be expected. Not with her parents and their friends. All she could do was to cook enough goulash to feed a whole battalion, make five salads and hope for the best. At least, her father had catered for enough drinks in the fridge and the pantry.

‘We are back, sweetheart!’ Her mother stood in the hallway, smiling at her; a bit dusty, but otherwise healthy and alive.

‘Mum! I saw it on the news – I thought-‘

The excitement had her zapping through the apartment, forgetting every promise she had made when her parents had her taken home with them.

‘Oops,’ she grinned at her mother, ‘sorry?’

‘It’s alright, sweet-pea, I’m sure today is the one day we can let it all slide,’ her father jumped in front of her before she could hug her mother, wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground, ‘Eighteen years of dragging you around, fighting over which movies to watch, which missions to go onto, which to abandon and who has to watch you while the other is off to fight – Happy Birthday, Tiger!’

‘Yes, a very happy birthday. Now where is the cake? We were promised cake!’

‘You have to forgive him, cub, he had to move out without having his three-course breakfast earlier, he might have a little bit of a low blood sugar.’

‘You don’t say,’ she grinned and let her mother kiss her cheek, ‘In that case, the table is set and awaiting your all. Also, I’m glad to celebrate with you stupid people. Just a few minutes ago, I thought I had lost my Mum. So please, sit down and eat, you just saved New York on my birthday.’

Steve steered a grumpy Bucky towards the table. She had moved it in front of the window façade soon after her parents had left. There was no way they would let it slide on any other day. In fact, she saw the way her mother eyed the heavy table suspiciously, how her father rolled his eyes at her and how Tony smirked, knowing full well what had changed about the apartment he had designed.

‘You used your powers to get this table over here,’ Steve scratched his head and frowned, ‘I thought you promised not to do that anymore!’

‘Leave the cub alone,’ Bucky grumbled and pulled him onto a chair next to him, ‘I’m starving, so let’s eat. You can reprimand her later. Although, just pointing out, you were the first to break all promises and do stupider things than teleporting a table so that she could have a nice view for her birthday dinner.’

Tony barked out a laugh and flopped down in the chair at the head of the table. She rolled her eyes at him for it, but didn’t complain. No one got Tony out of the spot he chose for himself.

Once everybody sat and Bucky had inhaled his first portion, her parents handed around the pot of goulash, the only food everybody liked that could be made in big quantities without huge efforts. She felt her skin hum across her bones, the anticipation had her vibrating in her chair.

Other teens turning eighteen may have wished for a car, books or cinema tickets. She could wish for only one thing, nothing else came to her mind when she thought about it. From the moment she had zapped out of her cot and into the pantry for the first time, she had thought about it, supported by the first time she had seen her parents in action.

Ever since then, she had wanted to join them. She wanted to be there. She wanted to help. After all, her parents risked their life for something more important than Sunday afternoon coffees and cheesecakes. With great power comes great responsibility, as Peter always said. He and Wanda were out there, why not join them? She had asked her parents exactly that, receiving the same unsatisfying answer for years.

_‘Wait until you’re eighteen.’_

Everyone at the table knew about what Natasha and Clint had promised their daughter. Bruce and Tony were still against it. Peter had jumped at the possibility not to be the only one under twenty on the team. Thor, Steve and Bucky had opted for the third and insisted on training her to the best extend they could manage, preparing her for whatever she might face out in the open. Her parents may not have approved, but they eventually saw the positive aspects in their daughter being able to defend herself.

‘Are we going to address the elephant in the room, or what?’ Bucky looked up from his plate and cleared his throat, ‘She _is_ turning eighteen today, after all. You cannot ignore that forever.’

‘We aren’t,’ her mother cleared her throat, ‘you haven’t gone soft on her, have you, Barnes? We were going to keep her on edge, slowly roast her until she caves in.’

‘Nat wanted her to beg for our approval,’ her father gave her the side-eye, ‘Your room, sweetheart. Take the shortcut.’

She squealed, jumped off her seat and zapped into her room. She could still hear everything that went on in the main room, Tony was wondering whether they thought it was good idea to do before dessert, Bucky told him to shut up and enjoy the peace while it lasted. She couldn’t care less, there, on her bed, lay a suit. Not any old suit, something seemingly made out of dark teal-coloured material, almost the same colour as her hair. She changed into it just to find that it fit her perfectly. It had loops at the belt and pockets down her legs, providing exactly the right space for knives and the devices she had developed with Tony, they had called them fangs.

‘Are you done?’ Her father leaned in the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, ‘We want to see how it turned out, Tony worked on it without your actual measurements.’

She zapped back into the main room, acknowledging the way that material remained close to her body, not flopping around like her clothes tended to do in the process. No sooner than she had materialized again, everyone around the table started to clap.

‘A fearsome warrior has emerged!’ Thor stood, grinning and overjoyed to see her again, ‘Our enemies will shake and tremble in front of you, little cub.’

‘Wow, you look…awesome!’

The next pat on the back came from Bucky, who simply smiled and raised an eyebrow, ‘You’re sparring with me tomorrow. We’ll have you get used to the suit and its behaviour in combat.’

‘Can we bring Steve along?’ She sat back down to be prodded at by Tony.

‘Please do, but keep the suit out of trouble,’ Tony instructed, ‘I just finished it, inter-dimensional pressure withholding Spandex included. You can thank me later, but it should withstand your jumps without a problem. If not…well, I certainly hope we never find out what happens if it doesn’t work. Your mother would kill me with pleasure if I mucked this up. Speaking of which, the suit is reinforced, bullet- and waterproof and has enough pockets to hold any souvenir or lipstick you bring along.’

‘Thank you! It fits perfectly,’ she got up again to get the cake out of the fridge, ‘Anyone for cake?’

She handed out plates and forks before cutting the cake into slices. There was not much left after everybody had one but the gesture was more important anyway. Tony kept complaining about the way his face was distorted on edible paper but was shut up by Bucky biting his head of the decoration, which had Tony let out a shocked gasp.

‘Buck, no teasing,’ Steve grinned and offered his part of the sugary decorations to Bruce, ‘This is Tiger’s day.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Peter chipped in, ‘has anyone thought of an alias for her?’

They exchanged looks. For a moment, no one said a word. The gathering exchanged looks. Then, Tony perked up and raised his hand.

‘Spiderhawk, to commemorate her parentage,’ He grabbed the remaining piece of cake from Bruce’s plate.

‘Sounds over the top,’ Wanda sighed, ‘Spiderling?’

‘Hey!’ Peter perked up from his phone, ‘That’s a call too close to home.’

‘Maybe something hinting at her abilities?’

‘Jumping-Jack?’

‘Yo-Yo?’

‘What’s wrong with something that doesn’t distort her name, huh?’ Bucky leaned back in his chair and fumbled with his scrunchie to gather his hair in a ponytail, ‘Call her Tigress. Even Tiger Cub would be acceptable, I guess.’

‘Stop forcing it, icicle,’ Tony pouted, ‘You are going to call her Cub, no matter what we suggest, won’t you?’

Bucky shrugged, one arm behind the back rest of Steve’s chair, grinning wolfishly, ‘I’m just saying, why call her anything but what we call her anyway? We all know that Nat chose Tiger for her name because she bit Clint the day she got here, and she’s been biting through everything ever since. ’

‘He was creeping me out,’ she defended herself, sticking her tongue out at her father, ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

No one mentioned her past, the experiments on her DNA that had left her with powers, the panic she had caused when she had zapped out of her nursery for the first time or how her father had found her in the air vents a few hours later. She had demolished his secret stashes of cookies before he got her out of the narrow pipes. No one said anything but how much of a gift she had been, to Clint and Natasha, to the Avengers family, and as of late, to Peter whenever he was freaking out about being part of a group like the Avengers without having graduated from High School yet. Zapping him onto the top of the Chrysler Building only to swing back to Avengers Tower with his webs had caused an uproar on the news and one week grounding for her, but it had helped Peter. Their attempts of denying their involvement had been ruined by his Spiderman suit and her distinct green hair, the side effect of Hydra experiments on a toddler.

Now, at eighteen years of age, the whole world of Superhero work, every opportunity of helping, saving, living her life, lay before her. She could use the powers given to her to make her a weapon for good. She could chose to fight, fight back and save lives. She had found a loving family and a group of friends who would never leave her side; no matter what hardships lay ahead. She was saved in their hearts, every single one of them would do whatever it took to make her feel good, welcome, _accepted_.

Because family was so much more than blood.


End file.
